Jesus said,“Take care of my sheep.” - John 21:16
The Lord’s answer was short, quick, andveryclear. I set down my coffee, went to grab my axe, and started chopping. Ella could yell at me all she wanted—I wasn’t scared of her, but I was scared of disobeying God. If He wanted me to chop wood for this woman, then that’s what I’d do. No matter the consequences.
Chapter Nine
Ella
The next morning, I stared in disbelief at the freshly chopped wood on my back porch with the note on top. Anger rushed through me that he hadn’t respected my wish. Was this guy really that stubborn, or did he have a death wish? Because I felt absolutely feral at that moment.
I yanked the note from the bundle, preparing to read a Bible verse.
Maggie made me. She threatened me with boiled eggs and pickles for dinner for a week if I didn’t continue to do my good deed for the local widow and chop wood. Please, I can’t cook. Just accept it.
-S
My anger dissolved instantly, and I actually burst out into laughter at the raw confession. At least there was no Bible verse. With a small grin, I folded the note, looked atthe wood, and sighed. As tempting as it would be to make Maggie torture him with boiled eggs and pickles, the free chopped wood was kinda nice.
“Fine,” I mumbled to the crisp fall air. He was forgiven. For now.
Honey bounded across the yard when she saw me and flew right up on top of the woodpile.
“Hey, pretty girl.” I reached down and stroked her chest.
She purred, which made my grin grow wider, and for the first time since James had died, I felt a sliver of my normal personality break through the clouds of depression inside me. Maybe things would be okay. They’d never be the same. I’d never be the person I was before James died, but maybe this new version of me could beokay.
To be honest, I was ashamed of what I’d said in front of Maggie and Seth. Was I mad at God? Yes! Did I have all the answers? No. But I was regretful of how I’d spoken about God in my anger to strangers after meeting them for the first time. It wasn’t right. What was wrong with me?
Deciding to right my wrongs of yesterday, I went inside and did what I did best. I baked. From scratch, I made my great-grandmother’s cinnamon apple raisin pie recipe. And two hours later, it was ready. I drove over to Seth’s house this time, parking my old blue Jeep at the base of the driveway and walking up.
Buster ran out to greet me, yapping and jumping for the pie.
“No, that’s not for you,” I told him and pointed a stern finger at him.
“Buster, down!” Seth called from the porch.
Buster sat immediately.
I reached out to pat his head. “Good boy.” I held up the pie, which I’d covered in a red-and-white-checked cloth. “Is Maggie home? I wanted to apologize for yesterday.”
As I stepped up onto the porch, Seth’s nostrils flared. “Is the apology that pie? Because, in that case, I can take it for her.”
Apology pie.He was funny.
I smiled. “Well, I owe you one, too, so you might as well.” I held the pie out to him as heat crept up my cheeks, and he took it. “I’m…having a hard time, and I said things I regret yesterday. I’m sorry,” I told him earnestly.
How many times was I going to have to apologize for my behavior? It was beyond embarrassing at this point. If we were going to be living next to each other, I didn’t want there to be any awkwardness.
He nodded and opened the door wider. “Come on in. Maggie’s cooking lunch.”
“Boiled eggs?” I questioned with a raised brow.
He grinned. “Not yet.”
I stepped into the main house and was surprised at how clean and well decorated it was. The gray couch had pretty coral-colored pillows and a matching rug and curtains.
Maggie must have done it. I didn’t see Seth as the decorating type.
We passed a hallway and then stepped into a bright kitchen with white cabinets and counters. A heavenly smell hit my nose, and I immediately began salivating.
